Just a Little Murder

Dear Parole Commissioners,

I never meant to murder anyone. Well, I didn’t avoid it either, but Mr client murdered three guards, and that’s worse than my measly one, so it’s fine. Probably, right?

Besides, if we toss the murdering aside, everything else had gone smoothly up until that point. For example, I showed off my talent for lock picking and masterfully opened the door to the main gallery. Of course, that door wasn’t actually locked, and I lied to him about it, but I’m justified because I got to show off my skills. I mean, skills I didn’t use, but that’s also fine. I’d done more than Mr client, so a little lie cancels itself out. I at least took twice as many steps, and that costs stamina, which means I must have accomplished more.

After that, we only had to hop through a few fun traps and grab the Handzie of the Dwarven Cups statue. A sacred statue worth a thousand souls and more expensive than the kingdom itself, which makes it perfect for a greedy man like Mr. client. Or so I think, although I don’t really know him.

If I’m being truthful, I wasn’t listening when he said who he was, what he did, or why he wanted the statue. But things usually work themselves out, so it’ll be fine.

And anyone who’d steal anything is a criminal, and that has to make them greedy. I mean, most people don’t go around taking things or go on to hire suspicious people to help in their nefarious schemes. So, yeah, greedy man.

And a well-protected gem must have its thieves to rescue it from a boring glass cage, and that thief should be me. After all, it’d be the best revenge for my last hiccup.

Which is why I must always stay vigilant.

So, I tracked his every movement when he broke the code to the alarm system. Yet, somehow, I missed the two heavy footsteps approaching from behind, and instead felt a blistering pain shoot through my spine. The floor grew closer, hitting my body.

After a hit like that, I couldn’t help myself. I had to turn over, kicking, screaming, and pulling at anything I could reach. So, it wasn’t my fault that Mr client got pushed into one of the spiky traps. I had to protect myself.

At least, I battered the two guards in the process. They were completely unconscious and probably not dead. Maybe.

I even reached out a hand to help Mr client from his twisted position around the punji sticks. Surely he should’ve thanked me or even smiled. What was uncalled for was the grimace he gave instead.

“Flip the green switch,” He said sourly.

I stuck my tongue out, but did as he instructed. The lights in the gallery shut off, triggering two ugly vermilion-red colored lamps to flick on.

“Hey, now it’s hard to see.” I yelped, walking after him.

The back of the gallery was trapped inside a large metal fence. Normally, I would’ve used my awesome talents to open it, but he ripped the combination lock off the gate. Without a second thought, he rushed in.

“Where’s this little cup at?” I asked, watching him read the titles one by one.

“It’s a hand, not a cup.”

I separated my lips, ready to ask further questions, but before I could make another sound, he added, “I think,” in a whisper.

I folded my arms, stopping in my tracks.

“You brought us all the way here, and you don’t even know what it is?”

“I know what it is, just not what it looks like.” He said, rummaging through each placard.

“You hired a professional for a job with so little information? There are like fifty pieces of trash--art in here, and you expect me to look through each one?” I exclaimed with annoyance.

This confirmed it, Mr client was a greedy, selfish man.

“No, I’ll do it myself. You’d just get in the way.”

I threw my hands at my sides.

“Excuse you, I’m plenty helpful. I helped you up, didn’t I? I unlocked the gallery, and I’m tolerating your unprofessionalism. You need to be thankful towards me.” I said, inching through the dim room with hideous artifacts.

“It’s here,” He said, from a placard on the back wall.

I paced over, catching a glimpse of the short detail on the board.

Nothing helpful or interesting, except a mention of it being ancient. Which always means money.

“It’s behind this glass.” He said, tapping at a large cylinder in the corner.

The glass was tinted with no light around it, making it more than a little difficult to see.

I pulled out my trusty hand-sized laser.

“This’ll cut right through that,” I said, trying to hold back a smile.

He motioned, and I wasted no time turning the laser on. It was a small gadget, no bigger than a chef's knife. Perfect for a job like this, I thought.

I considered the height of the glass when I cut, only cutting around our reflections.

Once the ends met with the floor, the glass door I made tipped in my direction. I gripped it, shaking under the weight. My knees buckled, pushing me to the ground. Luckily, a hand entered into view as the glass flipped away from me.

“You alright?” Mr client asked with furrowed brows.

I shook my head because, of course, nothing so small could keep me away from my objective.

The glass room had an enormous stoned-faced statue in the center of it. I rotated myself, leaning around the piece, and met Mr client's eyes.

“How are we supposed to get this out of here?” I blurted.

“I’ll grab this end and you grab that one.” He said in a fluctuating voice as if it were a question.

I rolled my eyes, following his directions.

The stone was cold and rigid, cutting my palms.

The worst part was that it didn’t fit through the hole I made, and we had to slide it out.

Once we were in the main room, where the aisles were wider, I suggested we roll it.

“If we damage it, it’ll ruin its worth.” He lectured.

“Well, it’s damaged me,” I responded.

He stopped, not bothering to say anything in return. Mr client examined it thoroughly until he found a piece of wire wrapped around its ear.

When he pulled it off, bells echoed throughout the facility.

“This is it,” he whispered.

He placed the silver wire around his neck.

“Really, we did all of that for nothing?” I said, realizing too late that footsteps approached. This time, it felt like a stampede, shaking the floors.

He pointed to an employee door on the next level, “You see that window next to the door up there? Let’s jump to the tree outside.”

He hardly finished talking when he shot up the stairs. With every step, the distance between us grew. Black spots poked at my vision by the time I reached the next level.

“Wait,” I gasped, hearing the stomping of guards climbing up the stairs.

“Hurry!” He yelled, pulling the window up.

I continued chasing him to the exit. I gripped onto the window frame, watching him already down the tree and running from the building.

Heat wrapped around my arm as my sight started to fill with dark spots.

A guard said, “Got you!” as that feeling of pain radiated down my spine again.

The window frame pulled me in close while my body felt weak.

When I woke up, they told me I was getting charged with burglary and a bunch of other stuff. Also, the food here is awful.

I don’t get to go outside, and they told me that murdering anyone is bad, even though Mr client killed more people.

I can’t help but blame him. I wanted this job to go well because last time I got caught, and it took three months to break out. Now they have me in a padded room, by myself. So if I want to get out, I’ll need to behave for at least a year, which is why I never should’ve trusted a greedy man.

Next time, I won’t follow a faulty person or go after a heavily monitored artifact. I only hope that things will be seen my way. After all, I’m not the one at fault here, and I realize my mistake now.

Thanks for your consideration!